Her Eyes had turned Blue
by loryn.stone
Summary: With Drop Dead Fred gone, and Elizabeth healing from her divorce, she is feeling stronger than ever. However, her mother insists that she have a final session with Doctor J. Ryland, who insists that she recount the times she met the important men in her life, starting with Fred, moving on to Charles, and then onto Mickey in order to close the book on Fred and her marriage for good.


Her eyes had turned Blue

By Loryn Stone

Doctor J. Ryland took a long swig from his bottle of Michelob Ultra before wiping sandwich crumbs from his thick mustache. He sighed; glad his long day of working with children suffering from Imaginary Friend Syndrome was coming to an end. Being a Child Psychiatrist was for the most part, fairly easy. His schedule wasn't very taxing or demanding. Today was particularly busy – he did not normally have back to back appointments from 9am through the afternoon. These mothers that came in today were very insistent on talking through their children's problems. He always felt that this job used to be easier – meet the child, learn their name, prescribe the neutralizing green pills. But these modern mothers that had been coming through more recently were not quite as compliant as his clients in the past. This was part of the reason he decided to have a hurried lunch at his desk, and felt that the beer was required and well-deserved.

Furrowing his brows, he tapped his fingers on the large, glossy, mahogany desk and picked up the phone to dial the front office.

"Hi, Joanie," Dr. Ryland said to the front desk receptionist. "Do I have any more appointments today?"

"Yes Doctor," she replied. "You have one more and then your schedule is clear."

The doctor picked up a notepad and pen. "What's the patient's name, please? I'll pull their file before they arrive."

"Elizabeth Cronin, Doctor. Arriving in 10 minutes, and her mother booked her for two hours."

Doctor Ryland paused and tapped his pen on the pad without writing the name down. He pulled a handkerchief from his desk drawer and ran it across his bald head. The room suddenly felt a little warm.

"Thanks Joanie," he said, with a smile in his voice.

The doctor rapped his slender fingers on the desk a few moments more before opening a larger drawer and pulled out a crystal whiskey decanter and a small matching shot glass. He popped the glass top off the decanter and poured himself a drink. He spilled it in his mouth in a hurry before the burn of the drink had time to warm his throat. Ryland exhaled slowly, more relaxed now.

He ran his finger around the rim of the empty glass. He knew Elizabeth would be here soon and didn't need the office to smell like booze. At the same time, she was what now…twenty-eight? A far cry from the child she was when her mother, Polly Cronin, first brought her to the office when she was seven. He smiled at the memory, congratulating himself on such a long and prosperous career. He rewarded himself with one more shot before putting the crystal decanter back in the deep desk drawer and locking it up. The doctor then wiped the crumbs from his desk, and polished off the bottle of Michelob Ultra, which had begun to lose its chill. He threw the glass bottle in the trash and popped a piece of Trident in his mouth.

The phone on his desk rang. It was the receptionist; Elizabeth Cronin and Polly had arrived.

"I will fetch her from the lobby in a moment, thank you." he said, and hung up.

He rose from his desk and walked to the two-way mirror, which looked out to the waiting room. Today it was empty, save for Elizabeth, who was glancing up and around the room, her chin resting on her fist. It appeared she was partially listening to her mother lecturing on at her. Dr. Ryland could not hear what Polly was saying, but he could see a stern look on her face, and a vein visible across her forehead. Normally, there were three to four children out there, generally under ten years old, all seemingly talking to his or her self; yet all convinced that their Imaginary Friends were in the room with them. It was most interesting when the children would get up and actively play with his or her own imaginary friend. Of course, this was a person that no one else could see. Off the record, Doctor Ryland did not see many differences between this behavior and more severe psychotic disorders, but by calling it Imaginary Friend Syndrome, the parents thought of him to be a specialist, and his paychecks convinced him that there must certainly be a difference between true psychotic disorders and Imaginary Friend Syndrome.

He shifted his weight on his feet and spread his feet apart, his hands clasped lightly behind his back. He watched Elizabeth for a moment, deciding he would call her into his office momentarily. He was surprised that she'd complied with her mother's insistence that she have an appointment with him, a two hour one at that. She was a patient that he would see regularly as a child, occasionally as a teenager, and seldom to never as an adult. That is, up until about three weeks ago when her mother advised him that Elizabeth's Imaginary Friend from childhood had returned. He didn't speak to her on that visit; he had dealt directly with Polly, as he simply nodded at her aggravated ramblings about Lizzie, and Fred, and a violin player at the mall, and Charles, before he prescribed Elizabeth the neutralizing green pills. He remembered how meek the girl normally looked with her hair covering her face, her frumpy, oversized clothing that swallowed her petite frame, the way her apricot shaped brown eyes darted from his face to the floor, from his face, to the floor; how she let her mother speak for her, never once arguing. Not as a child, not as a teenager, and not during that last recent visit as an adult. But now, sitting in his office, was a bemused looking, almost smiling young woman with confident eyes. He was intrigued by the change. He opened his office door.

"Hi, Lizzie, come on in. It's nice to see you." he said, holding the door open.

Polly Cronin nodded to her daughter and Elizabeth stood up, and smoothed out the front of her knee-length blue skirt. Her eyes rose to the doctor and she gave him a dimpled smile.

"Doctor Ryland, it's nice to see you." she said, pleasantly. She walked into his office.

"Lizzie, would you prefer to sit on the couch, or at my desk?" he asked, closing the door behind her.

"On the couch, please." she replied, sitting down cross legged on the couch. She covered her knees with her skirt.

"Very good," he said, taking a seat at his desk. "How are you? I'm actually glad your mother scheduled this follow up appointment. I haven't spoken to her recently, but she last told me that she had you under her supervision and that you were in the process of taking the neutralizing green pills."

"About those," Lizzie said, looking Dr. Ryland in the eye. "I actually didn't finish the bottle."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Then may I assume that your Imaginary Friend…" He opened Lizzie's file and reviewed the paperwork. "Drop Dead Fred, is still with us today? Do you need another prescription?"

"No sir." Lizzie started. "I have me now… She lowered her brown eyes. "I don't need Fred."

"I'm glad you feel that you're doing so well, Elizabeth." The doctor said. "I really am."

"Thank you, doctor." She said, pleasantly. "I'm really fine. I have a few job interviews lined up, and I'm even dating a little. I'm okay I wouldn't mind if we ended this now and I can go home."

"Elizabeth, I can understand how you feel that you're no longer in need of my services. You're on a great path – however, your mother is concerned. And you and I both know that she will not allow me to let you leave this room before your two hour session is up. You know me; we've been working together since you were a little girl. Let's make the best of your time and close the book on Drop Dead Fred, Charles, your parents, and maybe we can even talk about the gentleman you're seeing." Dr. Ryland ensured he sounded as light hearted as possible, while thinking of the video taped television shows waiting at home for him.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, blinked back tears, and nodded.

"Yeah," she whispered. "Let's do that."

"Good girl," said the doctor. He rifled through her file. "Now, according to your original statement, albeit when you were seven, you said that Drop Dead Fred originally started playing with you because he was your best friend. I know it was a long time ago, so just provide the best memory you can. Can you think back to that day and provide a more detailed recounting?"

Elizabeth cocked her head and dazed off. "Yes," she said in a half-whisper. She smiled at the happy memory. "I can remember it…"

Elizabeth's Statement: Meeting Dropped Dead Fred

Her pink bedroom was dark and quiet.

Seven year old Elizabeth Cronin lay in bed. She'd finally fallen asleep after being kept awake by her parents' fighting. It was almost a nightly routine at this point. She figured she would be able to fall asleep through the yelling eventually.

She had been asleep for almost an hour when she stirred in her sleep and woke up. Without warning, her bedroom light turned on. The bright light flooded her eyes and she was unable to see. Her eyes slowly adjusted as she stared up at the ceiling, confused why the light had come on by itself.

That's when she felt a hand smack her hard on the head.

Terrified, she gasped and threw the covers over herself.

'If I don't look, maybe it will go away.' she thought. Her little heart was pounding in her chest.

"Shit yourself?" she heard a voice ask. Her heart beat faster as she closed her brown eyes tightly and tried to ignore the speaker.

Several seconds went by before she felt a second smack on her head through the blankets.

"Oi! Did you not hear me the first time I smacked you? What are you, deaf?" said a man's voice.

Elizabeth angrily threw her blankets off to face her attacker. "What are you doing?" she said, throwing a pillow at him. "Stop hitting me!"

"I'll do as I like, you GIRL." he said, throwing the pillow back at her. "I'm not going to be bossed around by you, so you can just PISS OFF."

"But…but you're in MY room!" she squeaked.

"And you should learn to be nicer to people that bother to come and visit you!" he shouted.

Elizabeth cocked her and looked at the strange man in front of her. He was a grown up, a little younger than her parents though. He was taller than her Daddy. She liked his fiery orange hair and the way it stuck out off his head. It made him look crazy, but in a fun way, not dangerous. His eyes were enormous and bluer than she'd ever seen before on anyone else, even bluer than Daddy's. He wore a dark and light green striped sports coat and yellow-green pants. She could see a little bit of a yellow shirt under the jacket. His shoes were red.

She was surprised that she was not afraid of this stranger in her room. She wanted to talk to him more.

"How did you get in my room?" she asked, scratching her nose and sniffling.

"No bother, Snotface! I came to play while your parents fight! Even playing with a boring no-brain like you is better that listening to that disgusting noise! What a pile of shit!" he exclaimed.

"Who are you?" she asked, surprised by his naughty language.

"Oh me? Why, I'm Drop Dead Fred!" he said, thrusting his pelvis for emphasis. "Who are you?"

"Elizabeth!" she said.

"Liz'beth? You still look like a Snotface to me." he said.

"I do not!"

He put a finger up his nose, pulled out a booger, and wiped it on her cheek. He laughed maniacally in her face. "'Fraid so, Snotface! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Elizabeth smiled. "Your accent sounds like my Daddy's. He's from England. Is that where you're from, Fred?"

"Is that where you're from, Fred?" he mimicked. He sighed loudly, exasperated. "All of these questions are so STUPID. I came here to play. Do you want to or not?"

"Yes!" she cried out.

"Then get ready, Liz'beth. Because we're going to play games, and Hide and Seek, and eat Pants Pie until we PUKE and POO ourselves! We're going to treasure hunt in the dark and attack midnight robbers because we're not afraid of anything!"

"Yeah!" she screamed.

"Yeah?" he screamed back.

"YEEEEEAAAAAHHHHH!" they cried out in unison. She grabbed his hands. He wrapped his long fingers around her tiny hands and shook them until she was bouncing and laughing so hard that she could hardly breathe. Elizabeth couldn't remember the last time she felt so happy and laughed as much.

Drop Dead Fred jumped up on the bed and wiped his shoes all over the clean linens.

"First lesson, Snotface," he said. "When the opportunity arises to make something messy, you always take it, because it makes things better." He gave the bottom of his shoes a final swipe across her pillows. "Now…what sort of games do you like to play?"

"How about dolls?" she asked.

Fred exhaled loudly with disgust. "Ohhhh, not DOLLS. Dolls are so STUPID, and for GIRLS."

Elizabeth smiled hopefully at him.

Fred sighed and dropped his arms emphatically. "Well all right. Get your dolls and a cardboard box and meet me in the front yard. We're going to build them a dollhouse!"

"A real dollhouse?! Why are we building it outside, Fred?" Lizzie said, excitedly.

"Just do it, no-brain." he said, impatiently. He opened her bedroom door and ran out.

Elizabeth grabbed her three favorite Barbie dolls and went downstairs as quietly as she could. It was almost 11pm, and she didn't want to wake her parents up. She knew they wouldn't be happy if they saw her playing dolls with Drop Dead Fred outside at night, but it seemed so fun and exciting that she didn't want to miss out on the fun. She had never met anyone like Fred; she didn't even mind that he called her Snotface and no-brain. He was nice to her – her mommy called her much terrible things and wasn't nice at all.

She crept into the living room to see if the cardboard box from daddy's new TV was still there – it wasn't. Elizabeth sighed and wished her mommy didn't throw things out so quickly. She had an idea and scampered to the storage closet. There was a small stack of boxes there. After placing her dolls on the floor, she grabbed the biggest one she could reach and carefully brought it down. She opened it up and peeked inside – it was full, storing her mother's extra yarn and sewing equipment. Elizabeth turned the box upside down and spilled the contents on the floor.

She took the box and her dolls and ran outside to meet Fred. It was dark outside, and the air was crisp. She felt the night air through her nightgown, but was too excited to feel cold. She saw the outline of Fred's hair in the dark.

"Hi Fred!" she cried out.

"What the hell took you so long? I've been waiting out here forever!" he yelled, grabbing the box from her hands. He stood it up so it was a long tower.

"All right, here's the game," he started. "This doll right here, she's at home." Fred threw the doll in the box. "And these other two are jealous, because the woman in the house has been dating BOTH of their husbands. So they're coming over to fight her! They barge into the house," he threw the other dolls in as well. "But the first one knew they were coming, so she waited outside…and then locked the other two girls in. The two saw her outside and said, 'Get back in here and face us!' and then the first one said to them 'I will face you…you're gonna die!'"

Elizabeth looked at Fred dubiously. "Now what?" she asked.

"Well now they die!" he exclaimed.

"How?" she asked.

"She gonna flood the house and drown them!" Fred ran over to the garden hose and tried to turn it on. No water came out.

Elizabeth shook her head. "The hose is broken, Fred." she said, sadly.

"Don't give up, Snotface!" he glanced down the street. "Bring the dollhouse over here!" Fred ran off.

Elizabeth picked up the dollhouse and the dolls and followed Fred. He had parked himself in front of the fire hydrant in front of her house.

"Da-da-da-daaaaahhhhh" he sang, gesturing his hands toward it.

"This is perfect!" she squealed. "How do we turn it on?"

Drop Dead Fred smiled and pulled a hammer out from the inside of his jacket. He placed the dollhouse on top of the hydrant.

"Stand back!" he said. Elizabeth ran back onto her front lawn.

She watched Fred, this strange man with bright blue eyes and an English accent, this man that wanted to play with her and make her laugh, this man who behaved as though she was smart and important smash a hammer into the top of the fire hydrant, over and over again until the smashing sound became a song in the night. She knew that she never wanted to forget this moment as long as she lived.

And then the top of the hydrant came off. Water roared up, louder than Elizabeth could have imagined it would be. The dollhouse was shot up into the air; the pressure of the water snapped her Barbie dolls into pieces. Elizabeth was squealing, and laughing, and dancing in the water in her nightgown as it rained down upon her. Fred laughed maniacally and hysterically as the water from the hydrant began to flood the street.

"Do you see it, Snotface? It's brilliant! Now the dolls have drowned and she can have as many affairs as she wishes!" Fred shouted over the water.

Elizabeth could hardly hear him over the roaring rush of the water, but she didn't care. She was laughing happier than she had ever been. She was outside, playing dolls at night with her new best friend. She never wanted to lose this feeling…this life…this spirit…this FRED feeling inside of her. It was power! Fred looked at her and nodded, and brought up his pinky to her. She hooked her pinky through his as the water continued to dance upon them.

One by one, various neighbors began to come outside to inspect the commotion, including Polly and Nigel Cronin, Elizabeth's parents. All they saw was their seven ear old daughter outside, alone in the dark, dancing in the water from a busted fire hydrant. Their mouths dropped open as they looked at each other.

"Elizabeth!" Polly shouted to her daughter. "Get back in here this instance! What did you DO?"

Elizabeth stopped dancing and looked over to the blank space next to her and smiled. She marched up to the doorstep where her parents stood.

"Are you crazy, Elizabeth? What is the meaning of this? You're making a fool of yourself in front of the entire neighborhood!" Polly continued.

Elizabeth puffed up her chest and wiped the dripping hair from her eyes.

"Piss off!" she exclaimed, and she went inside the house and up the stairs.

Polly's stomach dropped when she saw her daughter's face. There was something different about her – a change. It wasn't just defiance…or anger…it was an even bigger change than that.

Her eyes had turned blue.

"It's so vivid," Elizabeth said to Doctor Ryland. "I can remember that night better than anything else in my life. The night I met Drop Dead Fred…that's the first time I felt important…powerful…wanted. That was the night I'd met my best friend. The greatest person I had in my life for a long time."

The doctor looked up from his notepad. "Now Lizzie, you say that was the night you "met" Drop Dead Fred. But if he was in fact your Imaginary Friend, wasn't that the night you made him up? Now, the mind makes up images out of necessity. Sometimes these images are so powerful that they can affect us physically, such as your eyes turning blue that night in your childhood. In your case, it seems as though you needed a friend to block out the sounds of your parents' fighting. I took some notes here, and I see that you gave Fred traits that overlapped with your father's, such as blue eyes and an English accent. Perhaps we've made a small breakthrough and Fred was a replacement for the lack of attention you felt from your father." The doctor was pleased with his connections.

Lizzie sighed. "Yes, of course, doctor. You're probably right."

Doctor Ryland smiled. "Good work, good work. Now, if Drop Dead Fred was a replacement for the love you didn't feel from your parents, namely your father, do you think this continue on in your future relationships? Tell me about the time you met Charles."

Lizzie cleared her throat. "Yeah…sure…"


End file.
